The letter for Neal
by Slaveya
Summary: The poignant letter for Neal It came to my mind yesterday. Do you like it? Leave reviews please!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own WC.

**Honey, **

**Sweetheart,  
****How trite do they sound?  
Let's be just**

**Neal,**

**It's hardly likely to send you this letter. I shudder at the thought that someone's fingers, someone's glance will desecrate these pages and my thoughts will look like a lunatic's idle chatter…**

**I am trying to write but I can't. The pencil can't catch up with my thoughts and they float away as they have come…**

**The first letter I am writing to you and maybe the last one. The only answer to those 1100 (I have counted them) letters that you have written to me. You are a brilliant artist! No, I don't mean your doubtless talent… You revealed to me one new tonality of grey – blurred margin between the law and its offence. You showed me the world in a radically different way – a white canvas next to which tubules with all colors are laid and their mixture depends on me. Sometimes, pictures are beautiful, sometimes, ugly, but you taught me never to stop painting because the masterpiece deserving a place in the Louvre comes after dozens of awful works. **

**When we met, I was a child who wanted to be a woman, now I am a woman urging to be a child…**

**You thought me lots of things…**

**Once you said me to float on the wings of my dreams without fear. And… I floated! The sun burnt me, storms were exhausting but I didn't get tired of dreaming – dreaming with dash just like you…**

**Do you remember the French town where you thought me to ride a bike? We fell around a hundred times laughing uproariously. It was the first time you told me **_**my little Kat**__**, **_**when you knelt to bandage my chafe knee**_**.**_** You looked like a father with his young daughter and it came to my mind **_**what a luck will your children have?**_

**Do you remember the romantic nights in the apartment? Cheap wine in a bottle of Bordeaux 82, pizza leftovers and plans of the future – endless tours round the Globe, countless galleries and museums… Then I realized that I don't like Paris, Lisbon or Prague I loved us going sightseeing round them…**

**And I broke everything turning our yearning into star dust. My damn pride couldn't put up with the travel to Copenhagen. Why? I didn't run away from you, but from myself. The proud reasonable Kate was jealous and indignant. I was afraid but flattered that you were looking for me. You got caught because of me but I visited you three years not because of guiltiness. I came to prison not for a visit but on a date. I looked forward the Saturdays and hurried toward the prison like a mistress – toward a love nest. **

**To the world you are Neal George Caffrey but for me- the boy with the ridiculous hat and perfect blue eyes. You are (if l should be accurate I have to write a lot of pages) a great man. You don't need to steal gold it is in your heart! I have always wondered how you manage to save so much love in a place – love to the life, art, wine and me.**

**When I was little, I dreamt to fall in love with a knight and I did. However, my knight's armor was made of the bonds he forged and his weapons were instruments for safe breaking…**

**You were millimeters away but I couldn't kiss you. A thin glass separated us. Now you are free but kilometers, hours and conditions divide us. What a comedienne is the fate, isn't it?  
I am feeling lonely in a crowd. I am wandering not knowing the way- what I lost the way or myself? I don't know who I am- Kate Alexandra Moreau, Robert Moreau's daughter; the woman on the Wanted list or your little Kat?**

**It's summer but I am freezing. The body is growing numb slowly and sinisterly. The blue disappears from my eye and covers the sore fingers. The wound is bleeding. The blood reminds me of the poppy field which we got through years ago. I hope if I close my eyes I will be there. I am gonna die. Haven't l been dead since I left you? I'm dying… What a pity it is not in your hug**

…

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**


	2. Chapter 2

New York's mornings were different beautiful heralds of the day. The sun shyly rose – afraid not to be stabbed by any of the skyscrapers.

A normal day was to start. The next case was probably lying on the table in the conference room.

Neal didn't hurry. Sitting comfortably on the terrace chair and sank in a book about the music box, he ignored either the first sun beams running on the terrace floor or June's delicious cookies. Even the scent of expensive Italian coffee couldn't catch his attention… But the letter succeeded. It was lying next to the coffee-jug. Only three words destroyed the whiteness of the envelope:

For Neal Caffrey 

Well.., it's normal to write the addressee's name on the envelope but when you know this handwriting perfectly because you have kissed its owner's fingers a billion of times these three words are painful. Neal tore the envelope and the papers fell at random in his lap.

**Honey, **

**Sweetheart,  
****How trite do they sound?  
**

All painters (as well as forgers) have great imagination. So does Neal. Now his imagination was making fun of him, mocking at him cruelly. His mind built abandoned warehouses with pools of her blood, painted one agonizing and helpless Kate, muttering his name, made him hear her screams that slowly turned into worn out whisper…

Neal looked at the letter more carefully and the hidden code shone:

Central Park our bench 12: 00

The brief notice was a hope – tender and fragile as a white dove. White dove flying on the way of happiness

The car engine whirred.

You're five minutes late – Peter commented as he saw Neal coming out of June's mansion

I'm sorry – the young man apologized

During the drive they both talked about the past weekend, the weather, El's cooking and such unimportant staff… While Peter was trying to guess what the next case would be, Neal's mind was already sitting on the bench in Central Park.

"_In the Meadow"_ of Renoir will be stolen – Diana briefly informed, giving them the case folder even before they managed to put off their coats.

They aim high…- Neal cheerfully smiled and impish flames began playing in his eyes

And they'll be soon on the ground – Peter added.

All White Collar division worked their fingers to the bones on this case and the girls on the picture would have been flattered by such attention.

The lunch break was dreamt by everybody. Despite its beauty, the art makes you tired.

In Central Park on the bench next to the bronze statue of violin player there was a young man with a newspaper. His eyes wandered around instead of reading the Crime Chronics.

She came. The grey coat outlined her body while a hat, flecked with flowers, hid the face.

She walks in beauty like the night * - said the man

Off cloudless climes and starry skies… Byron is always …

Sophisticated. Hi, Kat

Hi , Neal – she sat on the bench

I'm working on it … the music box

It isn't it. He changed the price– Kate said quickly hardly taking a breath – He wants _In the Meadow_ … He wants Renoir

* She walks in beauty like the night is a poem by Lord Byron

Do you want me to continue it ? Do you like it?  
Please leave a review! I need them.


	3. Chapter 3

NC: FBI knows ….

K: And you wouldn't even have an idea where my body is.

Kate was good at it. She perfectly knew how to issue an ultimatum.

Somebody is following you – Neal whispered, having noticed the suspicious man.

K: Yea, he is doing it for a while.

NC: Go!

K: Where?!

NC: Baker Street 22

K: Mozzie's favourite safe house … And him - Kate asked but when she turned to Neal there was an empty place on the bench.

* * *

Excuse me – the young man began - Have you seen my daughter?  
\- No – the other boringly answered.

Are you sure? – The worried father was about to start crying.

No, I haven't – the guy in black outfit was annoyed. He had a task and this ninny was distracting him.

She is eight-year-old, with blue eyes and …

Go away! I HAVEN'T SEEN YOUR DAUGHTER!

The father muttered something and disappeared in the park.

-Dammt it! - The standing guy thought.

That sly little Kate had sunk into the crowds of New York. If he had been more careful, he would have noticed that the wacky father's the spit and image of Neal Caffrey.

* K means Kate

* NC means Neal Caffrey

Please reviews! Sorry for the late update!


	4. Chapter 4

The painting is exhibited in European paintings department and … - Peter was explaining the case intently when he saw his CI enter the room – this is the second time you are late today, Neal.

Yes, sir – Neal saluted so strictly and formally that most of the agents smirked.

The smell of fresh donuts filled the hall and the explanations about Renoir were left in the background.

Neal, tell us about In the Meadow - Peter ordered.

N: Now?

The special agent turned his eyes towards his colleagues. It was obvious that delicious donuts, brought by the consultant, attracted more attention than Renoir, at least for now.

* * *

Neal, I've told you not to come… – Mozzie opened the door - du..ring the day. Hi, Kate.

Hi, Moz – she silently said- May I come in?

It was cozy inside. Maps of the world- famous museums and galleries were lying on the table. Forgeries of masterpieces, such as Mona Liza or Sistine Chapel's fragments, were mixed with quickly scratched sketches and created some kind of artistic mess.

Mozzie gave her a glass of wine.

M: Explain.

His voice was direct and asking.

K: To explain what?  
M: What are you doing here?

K: Neal, wouldn't … ask me such a question.

M: Because he is afraid.

K: Of?

She raised eyebrows.

M: Destroying his illusions about you loving him

K: But I …

Kate was about to begin defending herself but Mozzie's gesture with hand made her continue the story.

K: Well … I need some help.

M: Obviously

This sarcastic note offended Kate but if she wanted help, she would save the retort for herself. She told him about Renoir in a few words. She was thankful that the short man didn't want to know all details.

M: And Then?  
K: What then?  
M: After Neal steals the painting for you

K: I'll get documents and travel somewhere in Europe

M: You are good at it.

K: Good at what?  
M: Leaving Neal when he needs you

Kate's heart sank but she didn't know what worried her more: Neal's feelings or her hurt pride.

K: If you was Neal's friend you wouldn't tell him about the warehouse where I was.

Her voice was as cold as her eyes were.

M: If you loved Neal, you wouldn't have dealt with the feds. You wouldn't have given him up.

This small man knew more than Kate had never suggested.

Their silent war had begun since their first meet. The exchanged comments and biting remarks made them look like vultures fighting for the single dead body in a hot desert.

* K - Kate

* M- Mozzie

Please reviews!

If you notice any grammar or vocabulary mistakes, tell me.


	5. Chapter 5

NC: It was painted between 1888-92. In this period Renoir painted many works with the same pair of girls. The transparency of the colors and softness of the lines create harmony. The sixty- two shades of green embrace the girls in the calm and confident hug of Mother Nature. The young ladies are …

P: Enough, Neal, enough. Jones tell us about the security system.

J: It's Slaveya 16. A new class security system invented with the help of the top world criminals. ..

D: Did they ask you for help, Neal?

NC: Yes, they did.

P: And your professional judgment is?  
NC: Unbreakable

Peter coughed to attract his colleagues' attention.

P: The Met authorities agreed to put it in the center of the hall. Even if the end of your suit touch the glass, all guards on the floor will surround you.

D: Who of us will be inside, boss?  
P: Neal and you will be his lady companion, Diana

J: So I'll have fun in the van.

They discussed the plan all day, changing a few details. The great opening of new Renoir exhibition was on Friday so Neal had two days to plan the robbery, he had to prevent. Being accompanied by Diana was a small problem compared with the security system.

Neal had to choose. On the one hand it was Kate and everything they had had. Wasn't it strange that he thought about Kate in past time? He found he was doing it for a while. Maybe the chemistry between them had gone but he had to protect her. Neal didn't know why – because of his good heart, for their past experience or the conman in him wanted a new challenge.

On the other hand, he would ruin his new life. Peter, the team, June he would betray them … Thoughts danced in his head showing him how blur the margin between good and bad was.

* * *

At dusk Baker Street was deserted. Houses were so grey, ordinary and the same as if they were built with the command Copy/Paste. However, there was something nice and almost romantic here. If you were a careful observer, you would notice that Thomasons had new mower, Jonson's plate on the front door was put askew and Miss Morison didn't have green fingers because the flowers on her balcony had dried up long time ago …

Hardly few cars passed the street per day. The taxi engine buzzed before it stopped in front of number 22. The young elegantly dressed man went out of the car, paid the driver giving him a tip, and paced towards the door. A girl and her boyfriend who were kissing secretly near one of the houses looked curiously at him. Neal Caffrey had flirted with a lot of girls but he had never had the opportunity to hide a girlfriend from his father. He had had no father.

The door opened.

M: You finally came.

Mozzie was sitting in an armchair with a glass of wine and a book in the lap.

NC: Some people go to work.

M: The boring bureaucratic society keeps a normal man at the desk for eight hours. The government …

Kate entered the room and stopped the explanations of Mozzie's new theory about the corrupted government.

K: Hi, Neal.

NC: Hi, Kate.

There wasn't a bouquet of flowers. Neal didn't kiss her. Well, she hadn't expected everything to be the same as four years ago but he even told her Kate not Kat. Four years ago the handsome conman would have hugged her, kissed her and gave her a present.

NC: The painting will be in the center of the hall. Diana will accompany me and …

M: It'll be impossible to break in.

K: We have two days to figure it out.

Kate was holding a brochure of the Great Opening of Renoir's exhibition.

M: We?

Neal found the map of Metropolitan museum in the mess.

K: Look, if you expect me to stay here and wait you to do it for me, you are wrong. Whatever happens I'm in.

The brave Kate! -Mozzie sarcastically noted.

N: Leave your hostility for later.

He was already studying the map. They began suggesting ideas. It looked like that there weren't six years passed from their last team work. Only the time would show….

J- Jones

D- Diana

P- Peter

M- Mozzie

K- Kate

NC- Neal Caffrey

* The analyse of the painting and the security system are mine.

Please leave a review and enjoy reading!

Write any suggestions for the story if you want.


	6. Chapter 6

2 AM Burkes' house

Why aren't you sleeping? – El worriedly asked.

Peter was in the same position for more than two hours. Sitting on the couch in the living room with a laptop in the lap, he was intently peering at the screen.

E: Hon, what's wrong?  
Now he noticed her.

P: Nothing… I've a case.

E: It's bad to lie, agent Burke.

Her voice was neither admonishing nor strict. There was something relaxing in it. At 2 o'clock AM despite being sleepy and tired, Elizabeth was ready to calm him down and hear every trouble he had.

P: It's Neal.

What a surprise! It had been Neal for the past seven years.

E: What has he done?

Every letter of this question was mix of feelings: anxiety for Peter, anxiety for Neal, curiousness and sixth sense that it wouldn't be anything good.

P: He hasn't done anything.

E: Then?  
P: He hasn't mentioned Kate or the music box for days.

E: Maybe he doesn't want to worry you.

P: That worries me more.

El looked at the green spot on the screen.

E: What's this, hon?  
P: Neal's location.

E: Baker Street 22

P: He is there all night. I'll check him.

E: Now? It's ridiculous.

Before she finished her statement, Peter had already dealt Neal's number.

* * *

K: Let's repeat it again.

N: It's the twenty- fourth time we are doing it.

He was a bit tired and bored.

Twenty-fifth – Mozzie added from the sofa.

A mobile phone began vibrating. Neal's one.

Peter

N: Hi, Peter. Why are you up at that criminally early time?

The young man's voice was sleepy as if he had just been woken up.

P: I can't pick you up tomorrow.

Strange reason, strange hour – Neal thought. -He had probably seen my location.

N: No problem.

Kate and Mozzie remained silent. She was nervously beating at the devil's tattoo on the Metropolitan museum detailed map. She stoop up. The phone conversation was going on.

Peter needed a topic. He wanted to check whether there was someone else with his CI.

P: Have you read The great expectations?

The book was the first thing he saw around him. El had been reading it yesterday and had left it on the coffee table.

N: Yes. But I wouldn't mind if you lend it to me.

Kate went to Neal and sweetly whispered near the phone:

Sweetie, I want more.

Then she kissed him passionately.

Peter got his answer. Neal was with a woman. He finished the call with some trivial phrase but he wasn't sure if his friend had heard him. The conman was too busy kissing the girl.

M: That was

K: Well done

Neal gently drew Kate aside. She hadn't expected exactly that gesture.

N: It was risky. Never do it again.

K: Kissing you?  
N: Peter could recognize you.

M: Otherwise the Suit would have asked you about every book in his library. A new game of cat and mouse.

It was an awful and complicated paradox – to save the woman he loved Neal had to give up the fragile trust between Peter and him.

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